


Only Natural

by SentientStratofortress



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Coruscant (Star Wars), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Faecal smearing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Scat, Seduction to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, mentioned Mace Windu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentientStratofortress/pseuds/SentientStratofortress
Summary: As the Clone Wars rage on, Anakin becomes increasingly stressed and anxious. Will he find someone to confide in, or will he do something irrational?





	Only Natural

Anakin Skywalker knocked twice on the door to Mace Windu's quarters, heard no response, and quickly entered. Once he was inside, he realised there was no point in knocking. He knew the Jedi Master was away (though he wasn't sure where) and could have simply barged in. Force of habit, he thought and gave a half-hearted chuckle.  
Security within the Jedi Temple was as lax as it had been before the Clone Wars, and as Anakin suspected, the door was left unlocked. The Jedi Temple's entrance was heavily guarded, increasingly so by Coruscant Guard clone shock troopers, hand-picked by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. But inside, the Jedi Temple was full of unlocked doors. Jedi trusted one another, which Anakin was about to use to his advantage. To his left he saw Mace Windu's desk, it's surface pristine and tidy. (Thanks to the Jedi Order's pledge to protect ewoks by going paperless.) Only the holoprojector disrupted the desk's smooth surface. Anakin found himself smiling devilishly as he raised his organic hand, calling upon the Force to open the room's window shutters. Morning sunlight glared onto his scarred face as he stared out to the sprawling cityscape of Coruscant. He had never felt quite so detached from it all. He clenched his fist and turned his attention away from the window. It was time for business.  
Anakin hopped onto Mace Windu's desk with no effort at all. Confident in the sturdy furniture's ability to hold his weight, Anakin positioned himself in the desk's centre while still facing Windu's window. Keeping a straight face, he pulled his trousers and boxers down to his boots. The sensation of cool air on his penis, scrotum and inner thighs was unexpectedly liberating. Anakin released a long fart that sounded like a harbinger's trumpet to warn of the deadly storm in his lower stomach. He then squatted, backed up, and parked a turd the size of King Kong's middle finger in the middle of Mace Windu's desk. It landed with a splat. Anakin looked down over his left shoulder to admire his handiwork. The shit had maintained most of it's structural integrity from impact. It was a dense, cigar-shaped mass on the lighter end of the brown spectrum, prepared specially using a diet of deep-fried poultry and cheap coffee. He recognized it as the type of shit that wouldn't require toilet paper. As when wiping his bottom from similar shits in the past, he always left the toilet paper spotless. To test his theory, Anakin ran his index finger through his arse's narrow trench and into the sphincter. Upon his finger's exit, he felt some air escape from within, as though his arse were an exhaust port. Only the tiniest amount of faecal matter was present on Anakin's now-smelly finger. He was impressed a the almost-clean sweep.  
Anakin was no stranger to loneliness. He always struggled to fit in with other Jedi. His loneliness was even prevalent in his childhood, when he resorted to own bodily functions for entertainment. In this time of war, with his friends either dead or away, Anakin found himself relapsing to his old ways.  
He stood up and jumped off the desk before gazing upon the shit with the same admiration as he would with a fine Republic capital ship. But Anakin soon realized his business was not over. He barely noticed the tears in his eyes as he lifted the shit with the Force, and flung it at the window. It splattered with a noise akin to wet sand falling from a roof top. A reminder of sand only fuelled Anakin's newfound anger. He shut his eyes tight, tears finding their way from his closed eyelids. The smell of excrement by now radiated into nostrils. Reaching out again with the Force, he scooped up the splatted turd, practically feeling its warm shitty texture on his own fingertips, and lobbed it across the room. He repeated this action several times, the shit flying from window to window. Chunks fell to the floor like carpet bombing. It scrubbed on the glass like a shitty sponge until there was no remaining solid matter, only brown blots and skid marks.  
Anakin collapsed in a fit of overwhelming psychological pain. He considered the beloved poo to have once been part of him, grown and nurtured in his care. And now he had destroyed it. He had destroyed something he loved. “What have I done?” He gasped, daring to open his eyes and survey the aftermath. Anakin wasn't fully aware of what he'd just done, or even why.  
“Don't let your emotions get the better of you, or you'll act irrationally,” Anakin suddenly remembered Obi-Wan telling him years ago in a condescending tone. Anakin was stressed, exhausted, lonely, and above all, hated Mace Windu. Had he allowed his emotions to get the better of him?

“Mace Windu, I-” Supreme Chancellor Palpatine entered Mace Windu's quarters without knocking. The first thing he saw was a pair of pert boyish buttocks which he immediately recognized as Anakin's. “Oh, Anakin. What are you doing here?” He asked calmly.  
“Palpatine!” Anakin's heart missed a beat. Snapping out of his madness-infused trance, he rose to his feet, pulled his trousers back up and stumbled one-hundred-and-eighty degrees to face the supreme chancellor. His face was already turning red with embarrassment. He looked sheepish in front of the older man. Palpatine's question didn't need answering. He could already see, or rather, sense what Anakin had just done. He gave the confused Jedi a sympathetic smile.  
“Anakin, this is nothing to be ashamed of.”  
“What?” Anakin looked genuinely surprised. Palpatine walked forward and patted Anakin gently on the shoulder.  
“Yes, my boy. War brings out the worst in us. You've been under a lot of stress, haven't you? With your padawan leaving the Jedi Order, and the time you've spent away from your,” he swallowed, “friend, Padmé. I understand there has been some tension between you and Master Windu.”  
“Yeah,” said Anakin. It was as though Palpatine was reading his mind.  
“I'll send for a cleaning droid. We can pretend this never happened. It'll be our little secret.” Anakin was dumbfounded. He feared the repercussions anyone witnessing his dirty protest. Any Jedi seeing him flinging faeces around would not be so understanding. He momentarily wondered why the supreme chancellor was being so kind to him. Then he realized, Palpatine understood him in a way that no Jedi ever could.  
“Thank you, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine,” said Anakin sincerely.  
“Don't worry about it,” the chancellor waved his hand, “these are dark times. What you did is only natural.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who made it this far! 
> 
> I have two unfinished fanfictions sitting in my computer, neglected due to writers' block. But because it's been a while since I've uploaded anything, I decided to squeeze out something short and fun.


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